


run run run until the tank runs out of whiskey

by hummingbirdswords



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 18:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14170728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingbirdswords/pseuds/hummingbirdswords
Summary: When Emma needs to escape in the middle of the night, she finds herself on Regina's porch with a bottle of whiskey and a hope that Regina will want to share it with her.





	run run run until the tank runs out of whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> I'm slowly clearing out my Google Docs, deleting things I won't finish and finishing the fics I still want to share. I've been telling myself for almost a year that I would finish this, and now I finally have... so I hope y'all enjoy it. 
> 
> I've never seen any of the episodes surrounding the engagement/wedding, so I don't know how that happened. This would stray away from canon somewhere around there, so it doesn't really matter anyway.

The third gulp burned no less than the first two had as they coated Emma's tongue and cheeks before rushing down her throat like a wildfire in the forest. She gasped softly, still too sober to ignore the harshness of the whiskey. Even so, it was a sensation she welcomed, relished, needed to make everything else she was feeling go away at least for the rest of the night. She needed an escape, the kind that could only be found in the numbness that would soon find her as she sat on the dark porch with her hand firmly wrapped around the heavy bottle of liquor. There was too much going on inside of her head, too many thoughts, and she just wanted to get away from it all for a little while. Licking her lips, she silently hoped to get lost in a dark void sooner rather than later, knowing it would momentarily quiet the voices that refused to simply leave on their own.

 

It wasn't long after that third gulp that she heard the sound of the gate opening and she felt her heart skitter inside her chest. She turned toward the sound, a smile attempting to pull at her lips at the sight of Regina coming onto the property. She noted the pause in the brunette's movement as she noticed Emma before continuing down the path as though finding Emma sitting outside her house in the middle of the night was not something out of the ordinary. She shoved both her hands into the opened black jacket she wore over her dress and studied Emma's face as she neared, but she did not do much more to give away what was going through her mind. It was just as well. Emma wasn't certain she would be able to comprehend anything more complex than the basics of the human emotions at the moment, and she knew from experience there was nothing basic about Regina, least of all her emotions.

 

“Emma.” Regina stopped just out of reach, eyeing Emma's stretched out body with a lifted eyebrow. “Henry's not here.”

 

Emma's small smile fell quickly. She tilted the open bottle in her hand meaningfully and almost brought it to her mouth before thinking better of it, shrugging instead. “Didn't exactly come to see Henry. May not be mother of the year, but I don't stop by in the middle of the night with booze to visit my kid.”

 

“He's spending the night with a few friends,” she continued as though Emma had not spoken. She eyed the whiskey carefully, for several seconds, and then brought that penetrating look all the way up to search Emma's face. “My front porch isn't a bar, you know,” she stated. It wasn't said unkindly, more like she was just looking for words to say and something with a little bite came naturally to her—however, her tone failed to deliver the sharpness she knew Regina to be capable of.

 

Shoulders shrugged as Emma capped the whiskey. “I rang the doorbell. You weren't home.”

 

“Clearly.”

 

Emma sighed, feeling like she had made a mistake coming to the house. It wouldn't be the first of the night, nor the week; it felt like all she had been doing lately was making mistakes. “I should go.”

 

Regina didn't look as though she would protest at first, but then her shoulders noticeably lowered and she rolled her eyes, puffing out a loud breath. “What are you doing here, Emma?”

 

“You know...” She shrugged again, leaning her head back against the post she was resting on. She almost wanted to close her eyes, block out everything around her but the sound of Regina speaking to her. Even with the uncertainty in Regina's voice, Emma felt herself relaxing in response to it. She didn't close them, though.

 

“It's nearly midnight.”

 

“I brought booze,” she told her again, like an explanation, lifting the bottle from her lap and holding it out to Regina. “You used to like drinking with me—or at least I thought you did.” She bit the corner of her mouth to keep herself from frowning, from showing how unsure of everything she was feeling. “Thought maybe you'd invite me in and we could...” Emma started and stopped, huffing instead, dropping the bottle back to her lap when Regina only stared at it. “I don't know what I was thinking,” she said quietly.

 

Regina was studying her again, a flicker of something sad and regretful in her eyes with the mention of past nights spent drinking together, spending proper time in each other's company like they just didn't seem to do anymore. There almost looked like there was longing in the way her head tilted and her eyes softened, holding Emma's gaze. But Emma didn't wanna assume, not when she could just be imagining that look of longing because she wanted her own feelings to be reciprocated. She didn't want to assume that Regina had missed her the way she had missed Regina since the natural closeness they had somehow found themselves sharing seemed to be forgotten when everything around them was turned upside down.

 

Saying nothing, Regina stepped over Emma's long legs and continued to the front door. There was only a small glance in Emma's direction once keys were pulled out and the door was unlocked, then Regina disappeared into the house. Emma frowned in that direction for several long moments, feeling the sting of rejection like an icicle piercing her heart. But she shook the feeling away when she noticed the door had not been fully shut, a silent invitation she hurried to take before it was withdrawn.

 

Emma had been slouching and bent oddly at the waist for so long that the discomfort that she had been experiencing was muted and easy to ignore while sitting. However, as she stood, every part of her body protested, ached, and she wanted to lay herself flat on the ground to undo whatever damage she had done by carelessly throwing herself down when she had first arrived. That desire to be horizontal only increased when she was reminded of the alcohol in her system, what hadn't seemed like much at all now making her head rush unpleasantly. She chose to ignore it, making her way inside the house and shutting the door behind her, enclosing herself in a familiar darkness.

 

She didn't need lights to guide her to the kitchen, didn't bother with the unnecessary when she could hear Regina taking down glasses all the way from the foyer. She knew the layout of Regina's house just as well as she knew her own. She only stopped to glance up the grand staircase, the silver moon pouring in light through the large window at the first landing. Then, she walked into the kitchen where Regina was staring at the kitchen island with a contemplative look that was turned onto Emma when her presence was realized.

 

Emma paused at the entryway. It felt as though there was electricity in the air, crackling between them, buzzing its soft hum as their eyes locked and held each other. The silent questions were heavy, as was the obvious uncertainty that did nothing to diminish the equal amount of simple want clear in the deep pools that Emma had long ago accepted could make her feel both unbalanced and comforted in a way nothing else could. It was just a moment, long enough for her heart to beat three or four times with the harshness of a war drum, but it was enough for something to shift, enough for Regina to push one of the empty tumblers across the surface of the island and nod her head toward it.

 

Relief. Emma felt relieved as she crossed over to where Regina was and opened the bottle she'd been holding to her chest. Her eyes flickered from the expensive crystal to Regina's face. She gave her a slight smile and then poured two fingers of whiskey for her. But as she was going to slide the glass back, she was stopped by a hand lightly touching her own, eyes narrowed as they focused on the new accessory on Emma's ring finger. With that touch, relief rapidly got lost beneath wintery cold dread and anguish.

 

“He...” Regina pulled in a sharp breath and withdrew her hand suddenly. Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth and she remained silent, not looking away from Emma's hand despite the haunted look that took over her features before she put on a mask of indifference.

 

It all rushed back to her then, the reason she had needed to get away from her house, the tight feeling in her chest, the heaviness of the ring that was supposed to symbolize a loving promise but felt like something else entirely. She moved her hand away and brought the whiskey bottle up to her mouth, wanting the burn of the drink instead of the one she felt in her chest when Regina remained quiet. She followed that mouthful with a second, ignored everything but the way the alcohol swam in her belly and heated her from the inside.

 

It was too hot, too stuffy inside the kitchen. It had been easier to breathe outside. Now her lungs were aflame and her throat was constricting, and try as she might, she couldn't blackout the purposefully blank expression she knew was hiding all sorts of emotions on Regina's face. Not even gulp number six helped—it only made her suddenly unsteady and flushed, her head messier than it had been when she arrived at Regina's house.

 

“I...” That one word felt awkward on her tongue, like lead was weighing it down. She cleared her throat and tried again, shoving her left hand into her pocket, away and out of sight, wishing that would be enough to make everything disappear for a moment. “It's a long story.”

 

Regina cleared her throat and took her glass finally, nearly draining the entire thing in one go. She looked less pensive when she met Emma's gaze again. She pursed her lips for a moment, but then there was something like a smile there, something Emma automatically knew was forced and disingenuous. “I guess congratulations are in order.” She tilted the glass at Emma and then finished off her drink.

 

Emma frowned and wanted to say something, anything, but a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her and she just didn't have it in her. She turned away instead, leaving the kitchen and going to the back door. She needed the fresh air, needed more than ever to just be able to breathe without it feeling like a struggle. She felt claustrophobic everywhere—always when in her house, lately when she visited her parents, and now she had tarnished what had always felt like a place to take refuge when the world around her seemed like it was going up in flames. She needed to get away—but not too far this time.

 

Her wandering took her as far as the cozy patio that overlooked the impressive yard behind the house. She unzipped her jacket and invited the chill of the spring air to meet her overheated skin, and then she lay down without a second thought. It was obnoxiously quiet, so still that she could hear every single one of her heartbeats and breaths. But that quiet also made it possible for her to hear when Regina softly stepped outside to join her, not moving beyond the exit of the house from the sound of it.

 

Emma had been blindly staring up at the sky, fingers drumming on her stomach, but she slowly turned her head when she realized Regina meant to only silently observe her. “I didn't come here to be congratulated,” Emma said, knowing not else what she could say. It was difficult explaining why she needed to get away, and she didn't want to unpack all her messy feelings and share why it was Regina she had sought out.

 

Regina shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hip cocked out to lean against the doorway. She took those extra seconds to answer that meant she was choosing her words carefully, going through responses and choosing the one that would probably reveal the least. “What did you come here for, then? If not to announce your upcoming nuptials, then why are you _here_ on the night of your proposal?”

 

She wanted to blame the way everything was suddenly spinning inside of her on the whiskey, but she knew it was the look Regina was doing a terrible job concealing that was responsible. Regina was looking at her with so many conflicting emotions that Emma just couldn't understand, but the hurt was too raw to be mistaken for anything else. That look made Emma regret coming over, regret a lot more than that.

 

She swallowed thickly, knowing she needed to answer Regina. “I...” But answering those questions just didn't seem possible when Regina was watching her so closely and she was worried she would say too much or too little, neither of those a particularly good idea. Instead, she leaned up on her elbows from the ground and looked imploringly at the other woman.

 

Regina sighed, heavily so, and then shook her head as if to dismiss the entire situation. “It's been a long night, Emma.”

 

Emma sighed too, maybe truly realizing for the first time that Regina had been out until nearly midnight. “Did you...?” Her unfinished question was interrupted by her own thought process, too many sudden images of Regina out on a date with some faceless person that got to openly admire the beauty that was even overwhelming when Regina was clearly tired. The thought of that made her stomach churn. “Were you out on a date?” she asked a bit too loudly, accusatory and incredulous.

 

Emma's tone only made Regina stiffen as she narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

 

“A date, Regina. Did you just get home from a date? It's late and I saw you earlier. That's not what you were wearing.” She couldn't stop making everything she said sound like an accusation, like Regina had done something terribly wrong, no more than she could control the way it hurt thinking about Regina out with someone else—no, just someone, she tried correcting herself. “So, did you?”

 

“Since when is it any of your business how I choose to spend my time, Miss Swan?” She laughed without even a drop of mirth, almost sneering at Emma. “Perhaps I was. I'm not the one with an engagement ring on my finger, now am I?”

 

“What’s that have to—?”

 

“Please.” She scoffed. “If you're going to come here in the middle of the night like this, the very least you could do is be honest with both me and yourself. I think I deserve that much.”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

Regina balled her hands into tight fists and exhaled roughly through her nose. “I'm not doing this tonight, Emma,” she whispered, losing the hard steel that had backed her words up until that moment. “You need to talk, I'm here. You know that. But you don't get to be the jealous and hurt one, not right now, and we're not going to be elusive and talk around things because it's easier. I—I don't have the energy for that.”

 

Shamefaced, Emma fell back down and closed her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she whispered, knowing she should have never shown up in the first place. “I don't get to do that. You're right.”

 

It took a long time, but Regina finally came outside and took a seat on the porch swing that Emma was stretched out in front of. They didn't speak or even look at each other, but enough had been said to give them both plenty to think about as the minutes silently ticked away.

 

When she had wanted to stop thinking about the proposal and Hook, she hadn't expected that those thoughts would easily be swept away so she had room for the things she was never, ever, ever supposed to be thinking about. Memories of nights spent laughing too hard and feeling drunk off of a dazzling smile instead of alcohol were meant to be locked away, forgotten about. Emma wasn't allowed to crave Regina's attention, not allowed to let the thrill from a touch ever be more than that. It had always been something she knew she needed to keep hidden, secret, too afraid of what would happen when Regina discovered just how deeply the love she felt for her friend really went. She had never thought any of what she felt would be reciprocated, never dared to believe when she was fighting the urge to lean in a little closer, to linger a bit longer, Regina might be doing the same thing. Perhaps she had never wanted to believe it, but she understood what Regina meant when she said Emma couldn't be the jealous one. She knew Regina well enough to read between the lines and grasp onto what was truly important.

 

They may have never said it out loud, never too each other, but the truth remained the same: the longing felt was mutual, complicated and messy, but very much something they both felt.

 

“How long?” Emma wondered aloud, finally turning to look at Regina and finding her already looking down at her.

 

“How long?” Regina repeated. Her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips and she looked at Emma thoughtfully.

 

Emma pulled herself up so she could sit with her back against the side of a wicker chair. She opened the bottle of whiskey and took a small swig before holding it out for Regina. “You said we're not talking around stuff. Maybe we should start by actually acknowledging what we won't be talking around.”

 

Regina looked between Emma and the offered bottle, considering, and then accepted it with a faint, gracious smile. “I assume not much longer than you,” she answered vaguely, sipping from the bottle like Emma had just done.

 

Emma looked down at her crossed legs and picked at the fabric of her pants. “Operation Mongoose?” She wasn't sure if it was a question or an admission of her own, but she knew there was no turning back now.

 

Regina hummed softly. “Is when it became more than a physical attraction, yes,” she admitted.

 

Emma only nodded at first. That was when their friendship had felt its strongest to her, but it was also when she had actively been trying to help Regina find the person she said she was in love with. Of course, there had been Hook, but he had never been the reason she chose to bury her feelings for Regina. That had always been because of Regina, because Regina had a soulmate that Emma was helping her look for, one that Regina thought was her happy ending, and Emma had just accepted what little she could have, knowing she would be making Regina happy by helping her even if she was hurting herself in the process.

 

Hearing that what she had thought to be one-sided had never been the unrequited feelings she believed them to be, she felt only sorrow squeezing around her heart. She frowned and wondered why they had never attempted this before, being honest, talking about what they felt. But she didn't really need to ask to figure that out. Emma knew her insecurities were a little more straightforward and apparent, but they were insecurities they had in common. Just as Emma often felt as though she could lose everything good she had gained in the last few years, she knew Regina felt the same. She knew Regina didn't even believe she deserved what she did have. Because of those doubts and the unworthiness they felt, talking about it was a risk they had both decided they wouldn't take at some point.

 

“I was out with Snow tonight. We had dinner together and lost track of time afterward when we decided to walk down to the pier.”

 

Emma's eyes snapped up, questioning and confused. “You went on a date with _my mom,_ my very much married mom? What?”

 

Regina rolled her eyes. “Yes, Emma. I went on a date with your mother.” She made a sound in her throat that revealed her impatience. “Don't be ridiculous. Of course I didn't go on a date with Snow. I was merely explaining why I arrived home so late."

 

Emma narrowed her eyes a little. “You're all dressed up. I mean you're always dressed nicely, but you...” She huffed, knowing she really was being ridiculous. She blamed the whiskey. “You just look extra good tonight, you know? Date night good, like really...hot.” She licked her lips and lowered her eyes, feeling the rush of heat move to her face. She was making a mess of everything. She needed to stop talking.

 

“Well...” Regina seemed unable to formulate a response. She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, cleared her throat, but she only stumbled over her attempt to follow up with a string of words once before choosing to remain silent.

 

Emma bit her lip, thinking of what to say. She didn't know if it was the right thing or not, but she felt like Regina letting her know she hadn't actually been on a date when she didn't have to should be met with something of similar relevance. “I didn't say yes,” she told her, looking up, hoping the weight of what she had admitted was easily detected.

 

Regina sat silently, brow furrowed. She lifted the bottle that had almost gone forgotten and took a long drink from it, squeezing her eyes shut and enduring the burn of the liquor that Emma could almost feel in her own throat. She gasped loudly after gulping down the whiskey.

 

“He asked. I kinda just stared at him, and he kept on smiling at me expectantly, holding my hand and waiting.” She whispered the words, looking at her hand, feeling the same tightness in her chest she had felt when he was proposing. It was like she was right there in her house, frozen in place, every sane part of her screaming to get out of there while she still had a chance. “I couldn't make myself say yes. I couldn't even nod. I thought I was going to throw up. I just—”

 

“You're wearing the ring,” she said matter-of-factly, detached.

 

Emma shrugged. “He put it on me. But I never said yes. It felt wrong. I couldn't even...” Huffing, she twisted the ring off her finger and put it down in front of her. It was a small object, and yet the removal of it from her finger made Emma feel lighter. “I ran. I panicked and ran because I couldn’t handle any of it anymore. I don't know when making other people happy stopped being enough, but it's not anymore. I can't be responsible for his happiness when every day I feel like I lose a little more of myself because of it. I'm not... I'm not happy with him, Regina.” She swallowed loudly, looking into Regina's eyes.

 

She was surprised to see the moisture of unshed tears in Regina's eyes and rushed to her knees to get closer, feeling the world tilt and spin but ignoring it as she captured Regina's face in her hands. Regina shook her head in protest, but she didn't move away as Emma's thumbs stroked her cheeks, catching the teardrops as they fell and Regina shut her eyes.

 

“I'm sorry,” Emma whispered. Regina cried silently, tears rushing toward freedom like they had been held captive somewhere dark and scary. “I’m sorry. I'm sorry,” she kept on saying, over and over as she tenderly stroked Regina's face, hating the sight of tears streaking her smooth skin, tears Emma had caused without meaning to. She hated the pain that she knew was behind them, all the hurt; she wasn’t sure exactly what had made the dam break, but Emma knew how badly Regina ached. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking, shattering, her lungs tight as she struggled to pull in a decent amount of air.

 

“Emma.” It was a whisper that was heavy with conflicting pleads—stop and please don't let go, Regina's hands grasping Emma's wrists and keeping her there. She held onto Emma like she needed an anchor. Emma wouldn’t deny her, would do whatever she could to be the anchor Regina needed, her rock.

 

Emma leaned forward without thinking, without hesitation, and brushed her lips where Regina's skin was salty and wet. “I've fucked everything up,” she whispered like an apology, kissing Regina's cheeks here and there, all over. She wanted the tears to disappear, wished they had never existed in the first place. “I just keep on fucking up,” she murmured, tasting the saltiness of teardrops as she brushed her mouth over Regina’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have even come here. I’m just ruining more stuff,” she said, more to herself than Regina, giving a voice to the thoughts inside her head.

 

Regina shook her head and took Emma's face into her hands, made her pull back so they could look at each other. It wasn’t until Regina’s hands were gently stroking her skin that she realized she had started crying, that she was trembling on her knees in front of Regina, barely able to breathe. “Shhh,” was all Regina said, moving her head from side to side, her own tears finally gone as Emma’s leaked from her eyes and onto Regina’s tender fingers.

 

Emma tried to pull away, too late to hide her crying but still wanting to. But Regina held her firmly, making Emma stay right where she was, the both of them vulnerable and neither of them speaking a word. What was there to say when everything was right there in front of them?

 

“Shhh,” Regina whispered as she moved the open bottle of whiskey to the ground and then urged a resisting Emma up to the porch swing with her. She didn’t immediately pull Emma’s head to her shoulder—there was a terribly open look of fear of rejection in her eyes, hesitance once Emma was sitting beside her, uncertainty when her hand trembled and she tucked it away inside Emma’s hair—but when Emma stopped trying to move away and allowed herself to be comforted, Regina wrapped her arm around Emma and offered her shoulder as a resting place for Emma’s head.

 

 _She_ was supposed to be the rock, but Emma curled up beside Regina, half on the other woman’s lap, her tears falling on the soft material of Regina’s jacket and on the bare skin of her warm neck. She hated the tears that burned down her cheeks, hated how broken she felt as she struggled to catch her breath, and not even the whiskey that was making her head swim was enough to make it any easier being vulnerable and bare in front of another person. But Regina’s hand on her back, warm and solid, heavy even though it was gently moving up and down her back, reminded her that it was okay. Emma wasn’t pretty flowers and sunshine; she had petals that had died and messy roots. But Regina still held her and let her cry, let her be imperfect, human, and she didn’t make Emma feel bad for not being strong all the time.

 

A fresh wave of emotions rushed through her system, bringing with it new tears that were probably soaking Regina’s jacket. Every time she inhaled, it felt like there was a fire in her chest that was becoming more powerful, more dangerous. Her entire body trembled when she tried getting rid of it, ugly sobs piercing the night with their cries. Weeks and months, a whole damn lifetime, of pain clawed inside of her, and she didn’t know how to make any of the pain go away, how to quiet herself or stop the tears. She could only submit to it all, eyes squeezed shut and arm curled tightly around Regina’s midsection, this time Emma needing Regina to be her anchor. Everything she had tried burying and hiding was rushing up from the dark corners, all the voices she had tried to silence earlier were yelling, and there was nothing Emma could do to make it stop.

 

She realized after a while that she was apologizing, saying, “Sorry,” into Regina’s neck, still crying but breathing with a little more ease. But Regina was shushing her and rocking the swing, still gently rubbing her back. Her soft voice, her calming touch, everything about Regina in that moment made Emma want to get closer to the other woman and just stay there for the rest of her life, never leave, never have Regina stop. Emma would be embarrassed if she could feel anything more than exhausted and hurt.

 

Regina let Emma hold onto her until her tear supply had finally run out and Emma was reduced to heavy breaths against Regina’s neck. Her fingers stroked the top of Emma’s head and the side of Emma’s face, gently touching her; Emma left her eyes closed and sank in deeper, closer, buried a long sigh and hum right up against Regina’s skin. It made Regina shiver.

 

Emma loosened her hold on Regina’s side and slipped her arm inside of Regina’s jacket, heart beating too harshly, too quickly, as she tried to get closer to the only thing that had made her feel calm in months. She didn’t want to get up and face any of what had caused her to run from her own house; she didn’t want to think about how disappointed she was going to make people when she admitted she just couldn’t be what everybody wanted her to be, that she was tired of trying to please everyone. She just wanted to finally breathe.

 

Breathe.

 

For a long while, that was all that either of them did. They sat together on the porch swing, holding each other, not a word said between the two of them. But the moment of silence came to an end when Regina cleared her throat and shifted slightly beneath Emma’s head. Emma took it as her cue to move away and quickly sat up, ready to put as much distance between them as possible so Regina didn’t have to verbalize the discomfort that had surely caught up to her after having Emma cling to her for so long. But as quick as Emma was, Regina was much faster. Her hand reached out and grabbed Emma’s, not an ounce of hesitation like there had been earlier, and she made Emma stay seated beside her.

 

Emma looked down at their hands as she resettled beside Regina. “Regina,” she whispered, but it was the only thing she was able to get out before the raspy voice of the woman beside her was filling the quiet space around them.

 

“You’re staying here tonight.” It was said more like a strict order than an invitation, no room for an argument. “In the guest room,” she added as an afterthought, but she nodded to herself with certainty and turned to look at Emma. Her eyes were searching, deep with more emotions than Emma could even attempt to catalogue in her current state.

 

Emma was still able to recognize that fear of rejection that she knew all too well. Regina might have been able to hold Emma’s hand and give her orders to stay at her house without it sounding like she was any less confident than the mayor who could quiet a room just by entering it, but Emma knew Regina too well to miss the way she squeezed just a little too tight and fiddled with the button on her jacket with her second hand, nerves escaping despite Regina’s attempt to hide them.

 

Emma was quick to agree and accept, hoping she could make Regina see there was no reason to fear that Emma would reject her in any way. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.” She sniffed and remembered how much of a mess of herself she had made, how much she had cried, and how long she had held onto Regina with desperation. Her face felt warm, but she had apologized so many times already that she didn’t try to again. Regina didn’t want her apologies; Regina didn’t want her to be sorry, didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t cry if she needed to.

 

“...breakfast and, if you’d like, we can have a proper discussion about everything in the morning,” Regina was saying.

 

Emma snapped her eyes up from where they had fallen down to stare at the engagement ring on the ground, unaware that she had zoned out for a moment until she was catching the end of whatever Regina was saying to her. Regina was watching her still, eyebrow raised. Emma tried for a reassuring smile, but she didn’t feel like her muscles were pulling in the right direction. Her smile was twisted and unsure of itself.

 

Regina glanced down at the ring out the corner of her eye and pursed her lips. “My offer remains regardless of what decisions you make about your future,” she said with a heaviness in her voice. It was clear she meant what she said, but there was an obvious struggle to get the words out. “If you—if you truly want to make _that_ work... If you plan on putting the ring back on—”

 

“I’m not,” Emma said sharply, interrupting Regina because she didn’t even want to hear her suggesting she would put Hook’s ring back on, that she would go through with marrying him. “I’m not,” she said again, this time softer, looking into Regina’s eyes and hoping she could see the truth in them. “And it’s not just because I’m kinda hoping when you said we’ll talk about things in the morning you also mean we’ll talk about us and what exactly _us_ means. I’m just tired, Regina. I’m tired of pretending to be happy when I’m not. I’m tired of accepting the bare minimum in life because somewhere, at some point in time, someone made me believe it was all I could have and I never stopped believing them. I’m tired of not being enough just as I am, and he, Killian, he... I’m not enough.”

 

Regina’s eyes grew dark, fierce. “You are far more than ‘enough’, so much more. You are worthy of more than this world could ever give you, and anybody who makes you feel as though you're not, isn't worthy of you or the gift of your heart.”

 

Emma felt that very organ skitter in her chest. She couldn’t look away from Regina, not when she could see exactly how much Regina truly meant what she said, not when how strongly she felt was written all over her face.

 

“I don’t feel it,” she admitted, “and he never thought so. It was the idea of me that appealed to him, and he made sure I understood that once he had me. I tried changing, I tried...” Emma closed her eyes. She didn’t want to cry again. She didn’t want to be angry and sad and disgusted with herself. She took in a deep breath.

 

Regina stroked Emma’s cheek tenderly and then lifted her head by her chin. “Look at me, Emma.”

 

Emma kept her eyes shut and shook her head. “I can’t. I...” She breathed out slowly. “I’m afraid I’ll start crying again, and I’m _really_ tired of crying and feeling broken and—”

 

“You’re damaged, at best.”

 

“—I just... What?” Her eyes snapped opened.

 

Regina’s eyes were sad, but there was a small flicker in them and a smirk on her lips. Her head shook and she gently tapped Emma's cheek, her touch so delicate that it caused Emma to nearly tremble. "Well, that got you to look at me.”

 

“Regina.”

 

Regina shook her head again and took Emma’s hands into both of her own, turning a little on the porch swing so her body was facing Emma’s. “We’re tabling this discussion for the night," she declared with authority. "It’s late, I’m tired, you’re tired, and I’ll be here when you’re truly ready to have an open conversation. If that’s tomorrow, my day is yours. If it’s a week from now, or two...” A tiny smile appeared. “I’m not going anywhere, and you’ve made it rather clear you know how to find me when you need me.”

 

Emma glanced down at the bottle of whiskey and sighed. “I shouldn’t have just shown up like this tonight. I—” Emma’s words were mumbled against Regina’s fingers as she was shushed.

 

“You’re not to apologize to me for one more thing tonight, Emma. Understood?”

 

Emma glared for a moment, but she softened almost immediately when Regina’s fingers moved from her mouth and stroked her cheek. It was like she couldn't stop touching her, and Emma silently wished she wouldn't stop. She had missed how free Regina used to be with her physical signs of affection, missed how it felt to be touched by soft fingers. And she didn't have to feel guilty for how much she enjoyed it now. “Okay,” she agreed, and then almost apologized immediately after. “But I really should have called or something.”

 

Regina continued on as though she had never been interrupted. “You tell me what you need from me, and I will do my best to provide that support. Movie night, a drinking buddy, a sparring partner...” She winked.

 

Emma chuckled; the sound was almost foreign to her ears. It felt good to laugh. “I might take you up on that last one.”

 

“I’ll be ready for you if you do.”

 

Emma let out a freeing breath and took her hand away from Regina’s so she could stand up from the porch swing, answering Regina’s questioning brow lift with a head tilt towards the house. “I think I’m good for the night. Thank you for...” She shrugged her shoulders, biting the inside of her cheek. “You know, being you.”

 

Warmth spread across Regina’s face. She nodded and slowly stood up as well, looking at Emma with softened eyes. She didn’t say anything, but Emma didn’t need her to speak to understand what was going on inside her head.

 

Emma reached out her hand and took Regina’s back into her own. “We’ll do more of the not talking around things tomorrow—after I’ve taken care of everything I ran away from earlier, of course. I wanna do this right, and that means no more running.”

 

Regina covered their hands with her second one and smiled. “I’ll be here,” she said again, because she was always there, a constant in Emma’s life.

 

Emma smiled and let out a soft breath. It felt good to be able to breathe, to inhale and exhale without a struggle.

 

She did it again, and again and again, and she would keep on taking the calming breaths while she and Regina worked out their lives together and Emma found peace in herself and with her family.

 

Life was good when you stopped running.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading xx


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